Life in a Fishbowl
by Samsquatch67
Summary: What if Henry woke up in any water, and not just large bodies of water? From puddles, to sinks? Stand alone one!shots. What if scenarios. I'm sure there will be hurt!comfort in there somewhere, but there aren't enough genre tags, so I'll put it here. Enjoy! (Rated K or T for death scenes) CO-WRITTEN WITH THE AMAZING HANNAH LYNN MCDONALD!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: We own nothing.  
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Henry strolled home from the morgue, his hands in his pockets and a faint smile on his face. As he walked, he glanced up at the sky, occasionally glimpsing a twinkling star above the lights of the city and amidst the helicopters and aeroplanes. As he passed beneath a streetlamp, he checked the time, and began to walk faster. His smile broadened as he anticipated the meal Abe had waiting for him at home - warm, and home-made. None of that manufactured food Lucas and Jo would warm up in the microwave, but something wholesome and filling.

As he walked past an alley, he stopped when a faint sound a rustle in the darkness deep in the alley caught his ear. As he took a step into the alley, he clearly heard a whimper and a gasp of pain. Unable to ignore the sounds of distress, he strode into the alley.

"Hello? Is some one down here?" He continued walking carefully into the darkness, listening for an answer. "Are you hurt? I'm a doctor, I can help you."

No one answered him, but he heard someone trying to crawl away.

Hurrying forward, he had nearly reached the end of the alley when he found a young man laying behind a dumpster.

"Hey," Henry knelt down beside the man and began to look for the cause of his pain. "It's okay. I'm a doctor, and you're going to be alright. Do you have a phone?" When the man nodded and motioned to his top jacket pocket, Henry leaned in to get it and call for an ambulance.

Seconds later, there was a quiet 'pop', and Henry felt a hard pressure in his chest, which quickly bloomed into a sharp pain. The young man pushed his limp body over, and the Doctor fell to the ground gasping for breath. The unharmed man tucked the gun into his pocket and quickly went through Henry's pockets for anything of value. As he tried to take the fob watch as well, Henry grasped onto it with all of his fast fading strength. The man sneered at the Doctor's pathetic attempt, and hit the gunshot wound with the butt of his hand.

Henry gasped, and his vision blacked out for a second. He felt the stranger finishing with his pockets and running off, but could do nothing about it. Beside the clinical voice running through his symptoms (internal bleeding, possible injured lung and/or nicked heart, shock) and his time left to live (very little), there was a rueful voice telling him that by the time he got home, Abe's food would be cold.

*****LUCAS*****

Lucas carried his groceries in through the front door, closing the door ungracefully. He marched into the small kitchen and deposited the bags onto the counter, dropping his car keys beside them. He heard the clicking of his Komondor puppy's nails digging into his kitchen tiles. "Cousin It," he called, pulling out dog treats from one of the bags. He crouched down, scrubbing a hand over the dog's head, which was covered in long, white, mop-like strands of hair. He fed the small Komondor one of the bone-shaped bacon treats, "Good girl. Good dog."

Henry's eyes snapped open and he took in a ragged, gasping breath - his hand automatically grasping for his watch. For a second, his eyes slid shut in disappointment; but then they opened wide again as he realized he was alive. And being alive meant he was in water. And being in water meant he also had no clothes. Again. He felt a tickle run up his spine and he jumped, dislodging the fishtank and dumping it - and all of the fish - out on the carpet.

He could hear someone come into the house and begin talking, so he frantically looked around for something to wrap up in. Seeing an old, crocheted blanket lying in an armchair, he grabbed it. Wrapping the blanket around him, he started looking for a way out.

Lucas physically shied at a loud crash from the bedroom. Glass breaking and water... Groaning quietly, he stood, cautiously inching towards the partially open door. The fish tank. Questions filled his mind, had someone broken in? Had Cousin It un-balanced the tank somehow, enough to cause it to fall? He slowly put a finger on the door, starting to push it open.

Henry slipped out the window, making sure the blinds were back in place and the window was shut again when he was done. As he looked around for a payphone to call Abe, he wondered whose house he had appeared in this time.

TIMEWARP: Lucas pulled on a pair of thin gloves, looking at the recent body. He was 99% positive it was an accident. He'd just wait for Dr. Morgan's verdict. His mind was somewhere else, anyway... The night before he'd found the fish tank completely destroyed, his fish wriggling on the floor, gills opening and closing in desperation. He'd tried to get them all into cups and bowls before they'd died.

Henry walked out of his office, his hand smoothing the blue gloves on. As he came up beside the body and began glancing over it, he noticed Lucas' inattention.

"Lucas? Is everything alright?"

"What? Oh. Have I got a story for you," Lucas started, contemplatively staring at the corpse, yet talking to Henry. Eventually he looked up, leaning his palms against the examining table, "I was going home from work last night, and the strangest thing happened... I was getting groceries. Well, not that that was the strange bit. It was what happened after that."

"Oh?" Henry continued examining the body, resisting the urge to tell his assistant to get to what ever his point was.

"My bedroom fish tank was broken. Not only that, but a blanket was stolen. What kind of thief takes a blanket and massacres your fish?" Lucas threw his arms out from his sides to get his point across, before dropping them again. "Anyway. How was your night, Henry? Morgan. I'm sorry. Dr. Morgan. It slipped."

Henry froze as he heard Lucas' story. With an effort, he began working again. "A nonsensical theif - perhaps they held a grudge? My night was..." He winced as he remembered the events of the night before. "Tiring. But now we have a new day, and a new body - what is his name?"

**If you have prompts as to where he should show up next, drop them in a review! Thanks for taking the time to read this, I hope you enjoyed it! **


	2. Chapter 2

Henry took his time pedaling his bike, savoring the gentle spring breeze on his face and the sunlight glinting on the buildings in the city. As he looked out across the water at the city and thought of all the history that had happened there and what would yet happen, he missed the debris in the road in front of his bicycle. As the tire slipped on the slick banana peel, the bicycle tipped over and slammed him into the railing. Distracted and caught off guard, he gasped and tried in vain to reacquire his centre of balance - in vain, as he tipped over the side of the railing and fell to the water far below.

***ABE***

The man grumbled to himself as he walked. He was positive that hadn't been right, the amount he had paid for the antique cupboard. All he could think about was putting it up in his store so someone would buy it as soon as possible and the- as far as he was concerned- wasted money would be returned to him. Abraham marched slowly to the kitchen, intending to get himself a drink.

***HENRY***

Air whistling past. Details on the effects of such a fall. The bridge growing smaller above. Rueful musing on bananas. Impact. Agony. Sinking. Struggling to breathe. Growing blackness. Silence...

Henry gasped, his hand moving automatically to swim for the surface. The sudden movement upset his precarious balance, and in a flail of limbs, he fells to the cold, tiled floor.

Abe had come to expect many things, and many different scenarios, but this, was not one of them. First of all, his father in a sink. Second, said sink was the one that just moments before he had planned on getting a drink from. Change of plans. Third, said father was now on the floor in a heap of tangled limbs. "HEeennrryRRy!" he yelped, his own arms waving wildly in the air for several prolonged seconds before one hand clenched on his chest over his heart, and the other reached out to grip a counter to keep him steady as he gaped.

Henry scrambled up from the ground and untangled his limbs, studiously looking everywhere but at his son. "It's a long story..." He hastily reached out and grabbed the folded tablecloth from the nearby counter to wrap around himself.

"I can see that! You nearly gave me a heart attack!" Abe exclaimed, heaving a loud sigh and shaking his head. "Oh, sorry. Right. We can get out through the back before Elizabeth comes to check on me," he stated, trying to calm his frayed nerves. Elizabeth was the one he had bought the cupboard from. "I parked out back, no one should notice us. Come on, we should go, tell me what happened on the way." He put a hand on Henry's bare shoulder, anxiously glancing around before motioning to the backdoor.

Henry wrapped the cloth around him in a makeshift tunic and nodded to Abe. "That would be wise..." Praying that nothing else would happen, he carefully opened the back door and looked around. "By the way, where am I?"

"Eehh... Elizabeth Tyler's. She's an antique dealer." Abe warily looked behind them before motioning for the immortal to go outside.

"Abraham? Is everything alright?"

he cringed at the sound of the woman's voice. "Yeah, everything's fine, be there in a minute!" he lied with a laugh, but as soon as he finished talking his smile fell and he grunted, waving a dismissive hand in her general direction.

Henry's eyes widened at the voice, and he wasted no time slipping out and shutting the door behind him. Couldn't he reappear in one place at least? It's bad enough he loses all clothing along the way, but to end up in a stranger's house? What if Abe hadn't been there, or hadn't gotten there first at least? The Doctor slid into the car shut the door behind him. Now as long as Henry left soon and no one else came...

Abe looked back once more before he himself slipped outside, gingerly jogging to the car and digging the keys out of his pocket. He hopped into the drivers seat, groaning when his back popped in protest. He fumbled with the keys, trying to get them into the ignition. He looked back up then back down, and then did a double take as he saw Elizabeth wondering into the kitchen, which he could see through the see-through back door.

Henry carefully peeked up from the backseat where he lay. "Please, leave now - I'd hate to explain how I came to be wearing her table cloth…"

"Working on it," Abe grouched, finally getting the key in. He pulled out, ignoring the sound and jolt the car made and did as he started driving. Taking a moment to look in the backseat, he frowned briefly. "What happened?" he asked while looking back through the windshield.

He sighed in relief as the car started and Abe starting driving out. "What hap - oh. My bike slid on a banana peel and I fell off the bridge to the water below." He sat up and stretched. "It never gets any easier..." He leaned forward. "By the way, what were you looking for there today?"

"A b-" Abe stopped before finishing the sentence. He didn't know whether to laugh, or cry. So he moved onto his dad's question. "I sold her something a long time ago. A souvenir, really. Just wanted to see if I could buy it back. Guess she sold it, though. So I bought a cupboard instead," he answered simply.

"Ah. I see." The two hundred something year-old-man sighed as shook his head. "We'll need to retrieve my bicycle soon. Of all of the ways to die..." He sighed.

Abe allowed himself to chuckle. And Henry eventually joined in. It was the complete opposite of humorous. But slipping on a banana peel, of all things...

**Hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for the reviews, and, if you get the chance, drop ideas you'd like to see written, (As in where he should show up next!) **


	3. Chapter 3

**Warnings: Darker theme, lots of blood.**

Jerry had to remind himself why he was doing this. It was for his children. He wanted them to have food, and clothing. This was the only way. He couldn't get a job. No one hired him. So this was the only way. It was for his children. He stalked through the shadows next to the large building. He knew M.E's had to have lots of money, right? He'd just wait for one to come out... It didn't matter what happened to him. He needed to feed his children, no matter what the risk, or the cost. In his right hand he gripped a dagger, its silver blade shining from the building's light.

Henry was walking home again, a spring in his step and a tune humming beneath his breath. The day had gone well - they had worked through several bodies today, and had even apprehended another murderer today. And he hadn't gotten injured, nearly betrayed his secret, or died. The Doctor smiled. A very good day indeed.

Jerry reminded himself that he would just try for a pulmonary laceration. If he got help soon enough, there was a chance he would live. Yes. That was good. The man pulled his black mask down over his face, watching as his soon-to-be victim started walking from the building. Don't get carried away, he told himself. Quickly, Jerry caught up to the man. He was sure he'd been noticed by then, but it didn't matter. He wrapped his arms around the M.E, grabbing the knife in both, and plunging it into the chest. He could feel the blade scraping against ribs, and shock pulsed lightly up his arms from the impact of the force he'd put into it. Vaguely the thought passed his mind that this wasn't exactly a pulmonary laceration, but he pushed it away. The victim could still survive, he told himself.

...Morgan had walked down the sidewalk, passing from the sphere of one streetlamp to another. Wrapped up in his thoughts and memories and anticipations, he missed the sound of footsteps behind him. When he felt the arms wrap around him, he automatically brought his own hands up to break free, but it was too late. He felt the blade punch through his ribs and scrape across the bones. He gasped and slumped in his attackers arms as the blade lodged in his lung.

Numbly, the word 'Pnuemothorax' crossed Jerry's mind. He left the knife in, though kept his arms wrapped around the wounded man as he lowered him to the ground. "I'm sorry," Jerry whispered into Henry's ear. He looked down at him for several moments, as if in a trance. Small bloody bubbles popped around the blade, hypnotizing. He shook his head, starting to search the injured doctor's pockets.

Henry felt his attacker lower him to the ground, and tried to focus long enough to see who it was. Faintly, he thought he heard the man apologize, but surely that was wrong. Gasping for breath, he struggled to reach up and take the blade out himself.

Jerry stopped to look at his hands, covered in crimson. It was for his children. Then with shock he realized his mistake; he wasn't wearing gloves. The knife had his finger prints all over it. He knew that he couldn't take the knife out, it would make him bleed to death faster. He couldn't. But if he left it, his children would be left orphans. All calm about being arrested from early was tossed out the window, and madly he pushed Henry's hands away from the knife, tugging it out roughly. Maybe he should make it quicker. Jerry felt panic clawing in his throat, and he did what any desperate person would do: "I'll make it quicker," he almost cooed, forcing the sharp object down into the man's abdomen. And again.

As the knife was roughly jerked out, Henry whimpered and tried to curl up in a ball. He heard his attackers gentle words, but knew from his harried and rough movements that the stranger was anything but calm. The first time the knife came down, all that was left behind was a hard pressure, but agony exploded in his abdomen with the second stroke. Shaking and crying in pain, he weakly wrapped his arms around his stomach and pulled his knees up in an attempt to protect himself.

Jerry jerked at the sound of the pain filled scream. His heart seemed to be replaced with dread, pumping it through his veins harshly. He tried to swallow his fear, and pulled out his wallet. He flipped it open with bloody, quaking hands, taking out the money and tossing it onto the ground. He crammed it into his jacket pockets, looking warily around himself. There was no one. "I'm sorry," he said hoarsely. "It's for my children, I'm sorry." he grabbed the knife from where he had set it down to search his wallet, raising it above his head again to strike. This time he froze, tears burning his eyes.

Henry lay trembling on the ground, knowing he was going to die in front of a stranger and unable to think clearly through the pain to escape. He heard the explanation about the children, an gave a rueful, bloody smile beneath his tears. He saw the man lift the knife to strike again and closed his eyes, unable to keep from welcoming Death's release from his pain.

Jerry forced his blade into the trachea, and instantly blood gushed out, the lungs destroyed, the wind pipe mutilated, organs punctured... The young, single father shakily kept his hold on the knife, even as he dropped his head, eyes pinched closed. "I'm sorry," he sobbed hopelessly.

Henry's eyes shot open as he automatically fought a losing battle for another breath. As he gagged on the thick blood and slipped into welcome blackness, he heard the man's finally, sobbed apology - and his last though was only of sorrow for the man.

Henry suddenly sat up, gasping for air. His arms wrapped protectively around his abdomen and his knees pulled up to his chest before his mind caught up and realized he was alive again. He glanced around for anyone, and saw that the place was alone and abandoned. Spotting a darkened alley nearby, he left the knee-high water to hide in the darkness where he would not be stumbled on for a little while. Reaching the alley, he slumped down behind a dumpster and took a moment to calm himself down before finding a way to contact Abe and return to the safety of the shop.

TIMEWARP: After a full night's sleep, copious amounts of tea and coffee, a shower, and a fresh set of clothes, Henry was feeling much more alive. He had finally managed to push both the worry for his secret and pity for the stranger out of his mind, and was now enjoying the brisk fall breeze that whipped through the park and blew a fine mist of water from the fountain into his face.

A man and his two children walked around the fountain. The children wore - basically- rags, for all intense and purpose. The man wore hole-filled jeans, a baggy shirt and an over sized jacket. "Daddy, look at the fountain!" one of them squeaked happily. The girl. The boy, who might have been five, reached into the water to pick up coins. "Luke! Don't do that!" the man cried wearily, pulling the child's hand from the water. He crouched down. "That's wrong. You don't do that, alright? What would your Mother think?"

"But Mommy's dead," the girl pitched in. Visibly flinching, the man dipped his head.

"I know, I know."

Henry tilted his head and watched the family from the opposite side of the fountain. There was something familiar about the man, but he ignored the father in favor of the two children with him. In the back of his head, he heard his conscience (sounding suspiciously like Abe) telling him to do something for those children. Seeing the boy try to get the coins and his rebuttal, Henry reached down and grabbed a handful himself, drying them off quickly on his scarf. He came up within hearing distance of the family just as the daughter so guilelessly spoke up with the unvarnished truth.

The young father looked up at Henry, and his mouth dropped open. He choked on his own words, mouth opening and closing in shock. Tears built in his eyes. Oblivious, the children looked at the coins in Henry's hands after he dried them, and both beamed like Cheshire cats. "Are those for us?" the boy asked cheerily. "Can I throw them back in, can I throw them back in?" she bounced up and down, small hands held in front of her chest, eyes wide with hope.

Henry smiled at the two excited children.

"Of course you may! Here." He crouched down and divided the coins between the children. "Now you're equal!" He leaned back and, content that that would occupy them for a few moments turned to the father. Seeing the tears in the stranger's eyes, he frowned. "Sir? Are you alright? May I help you?"

"Sick," the man wheezed, shakily standing up. "Kids, I'll be right back," he assured, his voice shaking as he took off to the closest bush, his breakfast coming out in a very disgusting bit of vomit. Arms wrapped around his abdomen he practically sobbed his way through his sick, the smell of puke now hanging to him.

Worried, Henry checked on the kids and made sure they weren't going to move, and then ran over to the father. Making sure he could see the children at all times, he checked the man's symptoms.

"You need to calm down - just calm down and breathe. You're going to make yourself sicker, so just close your eyes and breathe slowly." While checking the man's pulse, he pulled off his scarf and used it to wipe the man's mouth to get rid of the acidic taste of bile.

"Stop, stop," the man gasped. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, it wasn't supposed to be like that, I swear on my life, please forgive me, the blood, and then you were just gone I thought-" now barely able to breath, he put a hand to his throat, breaths coming in tiny, quick, wheezing sounds.

Henry froze, his hands hovering above the stranger, and he winced at the phantom pains jolting through his torso. Checking that no one was near by first and that the children were still occupied, he gave all of his attention to the stranger.

Seeing that he was almost to pass out from hyperventilation, Henry pinched his nose, covered his mouth, and forced him to hold his breath.

Jerry flinched in surprise, as if slapped. He weakly fought Henry's hands, before his own dropped uselessly down by his sides, his heart still pounding in his chest. He nodded weakly to the M.E, the doctor, gratefully. Somehow he didn't feel as though he were drowning in oxygen, didn't feel like his throat was closing up, didn't feel cold and painful panic churning inside of him.

Henry waited nearly ten more seconds to avoid an immediate relapse. Letting go and letting the father breathe again, Henry checked the children again and was reassured that they were safe. Turning back to the father, he shoved the niggling feeling that he knew him from somewhere aside and checked his symptoms again.

"How are you feeling now?"

"I'm alright. I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me," Jerry reassured. But no, he knew, he just didn't believe it. It couldn't possibly be the same man. But when he looked at him, he knew, because he could never get the images out of his mind, not ever. "Sir..." Jerry started, momentarily losing his voice. He gained his courage again. "By any chance.. an... M.E?" he stuttered. His lungs hurt, he thought bitterly. His lungs must have hurt last night, a voice shot back, and it was like a blow to the head.

The uncomfortable feeling began whispering a warning to him as he heard the man's voice. As the father asked his question, the warning became a screaming alarm.

"Yes, I am..."

Larry covered his mouth, his heart dropping into his gut. No. It couldn't be. This man was alive and well in front of him. Regret and sorrow bubbled in his soul. He nodded and moved his hand again, trying to regain composer. "Thank you. Not many people can do that job, I assume. I'm-I'm Jerry. May I ask what your name is?" he asked cautiously. Maybe it was curiosity, or maybe, just maybe he wanted to forever torture himself with the name. The name of the man whom he murdered, the man who must have been an angel. An angel sent to earth to help people. To test them. And he had failed the test.

Henry straightened up and tilted his head to the side, mentally evaluating the man before him and trying to place him in his memory even as he answered. "I'm Henry, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Henry. Jerry rubbed a hand over his face. He would just tell them. If the man was an angel to test people, and he had failed, he wouldn't fail again. It was like the tale of Jonah. Second chances. Maybe this was his second chance. Maybe he was supposed to say-making sense this time. He wouldn't ask for forgiveness, he didn't ask for things he didn't deserve. But he didn't know how to say it. Anything. So he went for the blunt approach.

"Last night, I killed a man."

As soon as Jerry spoke, Henry's mind fully recognized the man standing before him, the man he helped, as his murderer from the night before. His eyes widened, and he stumbled backwards a step. Casting a glance at the children, he now understood why his attack was so desperate; but at the same time, all of the worry and pity from the night before came crashing back in on him.

Jerry swallowed harshly, dropping his eyes and scrubbing at his eyes. Crouching, he lightly rocked, putting his face in his hands then running them through his hair. "I'm sorry," he murmured the same thing he'd said the night before, and had said minutes earlier. Over and over again, he'd never say it enough.

Taking his own advice and remember to breathe, Henry calmed himself. The man before him was broken and desperate, just trying to make ends meet for his children and still recovering from the loss of his wife - and pity won out over worry in Henry's mind. He carefully stepped forward and put a hand on Jerry's arm, bending down a little to look into his eyes. "Jerry. I forgive you."

Brokenly, the man cried into his own hands, trying to mute the sobs that racked him. "Daddy, we've finished!" called his little girl. His baby girl. Making a mental note to talk to his children later, to apologize to them as well, for the mistakes he had made in his life, because he had learned one thing: He wanted them to learn that it was okay to make their own mistakes and learn from them. He couldn't force his new understandings upon them, expecting them to listen and never fall down, to never make their own mistakes. Wiping at his eyes, he met Henry's hesitantly.

"I don't want- don't deserve- forgiveness. I just want to make you a promise: I'll be a better father, a better man. Thank you, Henry, thank you," he said, and rubbed away another stray tear. Gathering himself together again, he clapped the man who saved his life on the shoulder. And he stood, and he walked back to his children: And he walked to a new life, with renewed vigor.

"Wait!" Henry spun around to catch the man. "Jerry, no one deserves forgiveness - but we all need it. You won't be a better father, because you're already a superb one." He tucked something into Jerry's pocket. "Take that, and use it for them. You made a mistake, yes - but you learned from it." He stepped back from Jerry, nodded to him, waved to the children one last time, and turned around to leave the park, more relieved than he had been for a while.

**That one was a long one, *Laughter* **


	4. Chapter 4

**IMPORTANT! This is sort of a crossover with Hannah's, It Could Be Worse chapter fic! Meaning, JO KNOWS his secret! Just a heads up.**

**Thank you all for reading and reviewing! :D Disclaimer: We own nothing.**

Henry took a sip of his water, enjoying the company of his son and taste of Abe's good food. He always enjoyed Abe's food - but some dishes never grew old, and this held many memories of some of Abe's earlier attempts at cooking. He smiled at the memory.

"If you had one day off, and you could go anywhere, with anyone, where and who?" Abe asked, breaking the silence. He looked up from the plate, meeting his father's eyes with a look of curiosity.

Henry looked up from his food, and carefully swallowed his bite before answering. "Must I have only one companion?"

"Alright, fine, you've convinced me. Two." Abraham stabbed at his food, still looking at Henry as he took another bite, chewing and swallowing and staring in wait.

Henry smiled. "I would take Abigail and you, and go to an empty field and spend the day there together - with picnic meals, of course." He sighed, and asked before taking another bite, "And you?"

"I don't know. Probably the same," he answered and frowned at his plate, cutting at the spaghetti squash then taking yet another bite.

"May I ask, why the question?"

"Can't I ask my father a question?" Abe replied, but eventually went on to elaborate. "I just want... Need you to let someone else in. Because we both know I'm not going to last much longer- I know how much you hate this topic. I just need you to understand that, eventually, you'll need someone. Someone else."

Henry flinched as Abe elaborated. "No, I don't like to discuss it..." He replied in a subdued tone. "And I perhaps I will. Someday."

"Yeah," Abe said quietly, his only reply.

Henry sighed, upset that he had ruined the comfortable silence they had before, but still unable to face the inevitable conclusion to Abe's part in his life. Chewing on a bite of garlic bread, he carefully searched the steamed broccoli for worms - an old habit he hadn't been able to drop. Thinking of the first time Abe had found worms in his broccolli (he had been fascinated at first, until he realized what the slimy taste from earlier in his food had been - then had knocked over his water glass in his haste to leave the table and rinse out his mouth), Henry started chuckling. Seconds later, he knew he made a mistake of laughing with food in his mouth.

"Henry?" Abe asked cautiously, seeing the expression that passed Morgan's face. "Henry? What happened?" he asked, starting to stand up, palms on the table. "Dad?"

Henry's fork clattered to the table, and bounced down to the floor. His hand automatically went to his throat as he struggled to bring in any air. He struggled to stand up, he mind beginning to blur into panic; and he stared at Abe in fear as he was unable to answer his son's worried questions.

Abe cursed loudly, crossing to the other side and putting his hands on Henry's shoulders. Frozen, he tried to think of what to do. He couldn't exactly call 911 in case Henry died while the paramedics were there, watching. He tried standing behind his father to the left, supporting his chest with one hand and leaning him forward, giving him sharp blows between the shoulder blades with the heel of his free hand.

Henry could feel Abe near him, could feel the hits on his back - but was unable to focus on anything. Getting dizzy from lack of air, he stumbled, and his vision began to black out around the edges.

Vaguely, a thought crossed Abe's mind. He was getting to old for this. For all of it. "Henry, listen to me, you're going to be okay," he said, pain and exhaustion lining his voice.

Henry reached out with one hand and tried to grab the edge of the table to support himself, but instead tipped over his cup of water as he collapsed to the floor. Faintly, he heard Abe saying something to him, and he tried to latch on to that - to calm himself down. In the forefront of his mind, a voice was screaming that Abe was abandoning him - not even trying to save him. In the background, quickly fading behind oxygen deprivation, logic pointed out that Henry was in no danger of permanent damage, and Abe was getting too old to be expected to do things like this all of the time. Terrified, Henry reached out a hand to Abe, praying that he would understand and take it.

Abe got next to his father, taking his hand, staring at him through tired eyes; a pained stare. He hated this. Pain was the main reason people feared death, and Henry didn't die. He just experienced pain, death eluding him for what seemed to be eternity. Not that Abe wanted him to die. But he'd learned that there were much worse fates than death.

Henry grasped Abe's hand with all of his strength, accepting the comfort it offered and saying goodbye - for the moment - to his son.

Moments later, his eyes slid shut and his grip relaxed.

As soon as Henry's grip went lax, the immortal disappeared.

As Henry gasped and awoke again, he was aware of two things: he hated choking to death, and there was someone screaming.

"Henry Morgan! What do you think you're doing in my wash machine?"

The doctor opened his eyes and looked around him in confusion, the last vestiges of panic finally leaving his mind. Realizing he stood in the midst of Jo's rapidly filling washing machine, He blushed and avoided looking anywhere near the detective. "Would you be so kind as to pass me a towel?"

Jo sighed and pulled a green, terrycloth robe off the hook behind the bathroom door. "Here." She handed it to him and looked away while he put it on and climbed out of her washer. "Do I want to know what happened?"

"I ate broccolli."

She blinked at him, trying to connect brocolli - the vegetable that's always said to be healthy - with Henry's death, especially considering as he had no alergies. "Okay..." She finished loading up the washer and then shut the lid. Turning back to Henry, she asked, "Do you need a ride home tonight?"

"Yes, please - thank you."

"No problem." She gathered up her license and car keys and led the way out to her modest car. Henry buckled himself into the passenger seat, and the ride back to Abe's Antiques was short and quiet.

When they pulled up in front of the shop, Henry quickly unbuckled and got out of the car. "Thank you, Detective - I will return your robe to you tomorrow."

"It's fine - and, Henry?" She called after him as left, "Be careful!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: We own nothing.**

**Don't know if/when we will get the next one!shot up! A lot of real life stuff happening, but, slap it on alert/follow and all is well! :D**

It was a wonderful day. The leaves were falling from the trees around him in the empty park, and he smiled in the brisk breeze that swirled the red and orange leaves around his feet. Enjoying the annual proof that some things never change, that the cycle of life continues on no matter what happens, he closed his eyes and stood still for a moment, remembering walking through different parks with Abigail and Abe.

... The group of drunken teens whooped loudly, taking another swig of their beverages. The hopped out of the back of the pickup truck, then stumbled, laughing. "When do you think the pigs will try and arrest us?" one of them said mockingly, and all of them guffawed again. With every intention of littering the park, they walked through it, some throwing empty beer bottles onto the green grass.

Henry sighed and opened his eyes as he heard the raucous, drunken noise of uncouth children. Mentally mourning the loss of such a peaceful moment in time, the doctor began to make his way out of the park.

The 'gang' called out to the man that started to leave the park, taking more swigs of their drinks and moving quickly to catch up with him. "Where're you goin', gramps?" a maybe in high school, brown haired man said, grinning.

Henry smiled slightly as he thought of the irony of the kid's demeaning title being true. Refusing to slow his step, he called back, "To my home."

"Don't run away!" they finally caught up to him, and one put a hand on his shoulder, trying to pull him around to look at them. They chuckled and circled around him, the smell of alcohol wafting off of them.

Henry stilled, but pushed the hand off his shoulder. "Would you be so kind as to let me pass? I wouldn't want anyone to worry." He frowned at the sick smell of cheap alcohol surrounding the kids and tried not to breathe too deeply.

"Hmmm, le'mme think 'bout it... nah," the ring-leader threw a punch to Henry's jaw, and the rest of them jumped in, seeming to enjoy themselves as they started throwing punches and getting an occasional kick in as well. One threw a freshly empty glass bottle at him, shards splintering everywhere.

Henry's eyes widened as his saw the fist coming for him; and tried to dodge it, but failed. As the rest of the gang attacked, he tried to fend them off and keep his feet - to find a chance to escape and take it before this went too far.

When the glass shattered against the back of his head, he stumbled, and fell to one knee.

Laughing all the while, the thugs threw punches and kicks, gleefully and ignorantly, oblivious to the damage they were causing. They drank their beers, they pulled him up to knee him in the abdomen...

Beaten down to the ground, Henry gave up trying to escape them and curled up on the ground, crying out as their blows rained down on him. He could feel blood starting to soak his clothes, and his sight began to blur. When they pulled up up to his feet again, he faintly hoped that perhaps they would let him go now - that their fun was done and that they would leave him be. As the wind was knocked out of him, killing his hopes, he sagged in their arms, just wanting to escape somehow - whether by life or death.

They kept up their beating, intoxicated, the poison inside of them driving out their sanity and any bit of morals. They each took their turn, and the sound of ribs cracking and breaking could be heard, but their ears were deaf. One of them grabbed a handful of his hair, yanking his head back and exposing his neck. Slurred laughing filled the clearing, and the ring-leader sent a punch to Henry's throat.

Everything disappeared around him in a pain-filled haze. He could feel his bones breaking beneath their endless blows, but the pain was almost an afterthought. He felt someone grab his hair; and, for one terrifying second, he was back in the Frenchman's basement with Adam. Overlapped with images of Adam slitting his throat, he felt the leader's punch connect with his neck. Gasping for breath, he automatically tried to lift his hand to his throat to clear it, but was to weak.

Cackling, they let him drop back onto the ground, continuing their blows.

Choking, Henry wondered how he got into these situations - if he could go a week without severe injury to his person. As his panicked mind fell blissfully into blackness, he ruefully realized that it was a good things these boys were so drunk: no one would believe them if they said the body had disappeared - if they told anyone.

Henry opened his eyes with a gasp, coughing as he inhaled water, Sitting up, he blinked in the rain that was falling around him in a steady drone. Sighing at the slimy mud beneath the water of the puddle he sat in, he gathered himself together and carefully stood up, hoping that no one would pass by and see him. Seeing the remains of a newspaper nearby, not yet turned soggy by the rain, he wrapped it around himself like a make-shift towel.

He shook his head and sighed, disappointed in the children of the modern world - that they would attack a stranger for fun, to make themselves feel stronger, all because of a few drinks and no correction. Thank goodness he had been raised better, and had raised his son better. Seeing a payphone in the distance, he trekked towards it. He dialed the phone, and waited in the rain for someone to pick up.

"Hello? Abe? Yes, I need you to pick me up..."


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: We. Don't. Own. Anything.**

**Warnings: blood.**

Henry pushed back from his desk and stretched his muscles, tired from bending over his papers, reading. Being upstairs for once, and not in his laboratory, he could see the lights of the city through the shop windows. Sighing, he sorted through the papers again, and mentally promised himself to go to bed in thirty minutes - disregarding the previous five times he had made similar promises that night.

... Sean was his real name. Not that any of his 'men' knew that, they knew him as Bull Dog. He didn't really care what they knew him as. And honestly, unlike the rest of them, the only thing he cared about was the thrill. Intoxicating. That's what it was, intoxicating. He didn't care about the precious antiques they went after, he cared about the begging, the pleading, the sobbing, the screaming, and the feeling of someone's life in his hands. He was addicted, and there was no way he would ever stop. He didn't want to stop. He loved the kill.

Henry stood up and went to the kitchen, planning on preparing some tea before he finished his work for the night. Rinsing out the tea kettle and setting it on the stove to boil, he let himself fully relax, letting the cares and worries of his life and secret be brushed aside and forgotten, if only for a moment.

...Sean led his group towards the new shop, Abe's Antiques. There was a light on inside; good, he thought. Motioning for his group to hide, he knocked on the door, then waited, then rapped impatiently yet again. His round face wore a frown; his tall, strong build huddled outside the door in the cold.

Henry blinked and took a deep breath as someone knocked at the door. Frowning at the lateness of the hour, he turned off the stove burner and went to the door. Outside the glass, hunched in to protect himself from the cold, the doctor saw a stranger. He knew it couldn't be a customer - the hour and the stranger's air were off - but opened the door anyway, carefully unlatching it.

"Yes? May I help you?"

"I'm s-sorry to bother you, but may I c-come in?" Sean shivered, looking hopefully at Henry. He faked a shudder, and in doing so, alerted his friends. Friends. More like allies. They all got ready.

Something was off, but the gentleman in Henry brushed the warning doubt aside, pitying the man left outside in the bitter cold and ushering him in. "Please, come in - you may warm up here for a little while. Would you like some tea?"

"Tea? Anything s-sounds good right now," Sean said, faking a wide, pleasant smile. When he stepped in, his men followed quickly, bustling behind him, the clicking of several guns hammers being pulled back echoed quietly. Sean grinned, taking the 45 someone handed him, "But I do prefer coffee."

Henry nodded and turned to the kitchen, planning on relighting the burner and heating the water completely. At the clicks of the guns being cocked echoed behind him, he automatically froze, his breath catching as he realized just what he had invited into the shop. Closing his eyes, he let his disappointment in life and despair at his situation wash over him for a moment.

Sean hummed then said to the man on his left, "Look for the antique, and take Shaman with you." Two guys walked off to go search the shop. "You know, if you just tell me where that new antique you just bought is, this could all be over before it really begins. What do you say, Pal?"

Henry swallowed nervously, unable to fully calm himself. "New antique? I'm afraid I don't know what you are talking about." Unable to continue standing with his back to the man, the doctor slowly began to turn around.

Sean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure you don't." He aimed at Henry's clavicle, pulling the trigger calmly, unfazed by the recoil. He waited for the inevitable screams as the bullet raced towards and hit Morgan's collarbone. Oh yes, he would enjoy this very much.

Henry's eyes widened as he saw the stranger's fingers tighten around the trigger of the gun, involuntarily attempting to doge the bullet. It slammed in to his clavicle, and the force spun him around. Choking on a pained scream that struggled both to get out and stay in, Henry collapsed to the ground, a shaky hand rising up to the wound. The deep sense of foreboding in his heart reared its head again, and the doctor rolled over to face his attacker, automatically trying to back away.

"Ooohh don't be like that," Sean clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "I just want to talk. Well, he bobbed the gun to the side, lips tilting downward for a second, "Maybe not just talk, but your pain is just a bonus. Now where is the antique? You can tell me, or, we will find it on our own, and your pain will entertain me longer. Which will it be?"

Henry's mind raced as he considered the situation. He knew they wanted an antique, and he reasoned that it was probably a recent acquisition of Abe's. As he thought about all of Abe's recent purchases, he realized he knew exactly which piece they wanted - and where it was.

Because of its high value, Abe kept the piece in his own room when the shop was closed - especially as it hadn't been priced or added to inventory of the store. But to tell these men where it was and reveal Abe's presence to them?

Henry shook his head. "No, Sir, I don't know what you are talking about!"

Sean sighed, as if doing buissness with an unexpirienced teenager. "You don't, don't you?" he said skeptically, aiming the gun again. "Are you sure about that?"

Against his will, Henry began trembling. He could tell that this man hurt only for the pleasure it gave him, and that nothing would cause him to desist once he had begun. Half of him wanted to give the man what he wanted, to try to find a way out of the world of pain that would follow if he answered incorrectly – but the other half of him knew that, no matter what he said or what the man found, he would still continue his macabre game, but without the pretense of an interrogation. Forefront in his mind continually was Abe's presence upstairs, and the knowledge that any harm done to him would be permanent - unlike in Henry's case.

He tried to still his shaking, to focus on something other than the looming muzzle of the gun, to silence the detached, analytical voice in the back of his head profiling the attackers and the situation - but was unable to.

Unable to voice it, Henry nodded his head.

Sean frowned, nodding and lowering the gun. "Alright, then." In an instant the gun was aimed at Henry's other collarbone, and the shot fired, the sound of the shot rang, and he could hear it hit the target.

Henry's choked scream echoed through the house - a constant prayer Abe would stay away, stay safe, ran through his head as blackness obscured most of his vision. His arms lay uselessly aross him, having lost support to move.

Sean smiled, walking forward and crouching before the man. "Well, I never really cared about the antique, personally. My boys will find it anyway." He put a hand on Henry's shoulder, digging his thumb into the bullet hole. He could feel the blood running down his finger and hand.

The world faded out around Henry, leaving him trapped in an endless cycle of pain and fear. Dimly, he wondered how long the status quo would exist, and what would happen would the stranger tired of toying with him.

Outwardly, he involuntarily jerked away from the attacker and cried in pain.

***ABE***

He'd heard the shots, heard the cries. The oh-so-familiar cries of pain. He'd grabbed his SIG pistol from the desk near his bed, gingerly clambered off of his bed, and walked towards the door, his mind in a state of grogginess, but adrenaline would soon change that. He clicked the magazine in with the palm of his hand, tapping it to secure it, and then snuck out of his room, heart starting to pound inside of his chest. Tap, rack, bang, he remembered hearing it from his military days. So he did, he pulled back the slide, let it 'fly', got in a shooters stance, and made his way into the main room.

Henry felt the stranger pull away, and lamented the retreat of unconsciousness. As his vision shifted back into focus, he heard someone slowly coming down the stairs - and his heart stopped as he realized that none of the robbers had gone up them.

Abe aimed the gun at Sean upon entering the room. The scene was bloody, but for once he was grateful that he'd seen blood and gore before. Henry was on the ground, and for all intense and purpose, he was being tortured. "Drop the gun!" Abe yelled as confidently and strongly as he could, perhaps not as strongly as he once had been able to. Sean looked up in mild surprise and amusement.

Henry gasped for breath, both thankful and hateful of the brief reprieve he had been granted. Weakly, he turned his head to look at his son, silently beggin him to stay out of this - to not attract their attention. He winced at his attacker's amusement, and tried to warn Abe.

"Henry-" Abe warned almost silently, trying to dissuade his father from trying to tell Abe to 'stay out of it', or to leave, or whatever exactly he would say.

"Well, well," Sean broke in. "How touching."

Henry shook his head in response to Abe, and painstakingly struggled to roll over and get his feet beneath him. He shuddered at the stranger's voice, and tried to calm his frantic breathing.

"Sob worthy," Abe replied dryly to Sean, his expression hard.

Sean laughed as if it were the funniest thing he'd ever heard. "Did you heard him, Henry?" Sean asked, using the name he had heard Abe refer to Henry as.

"Isn't that the funniest thing you've heard all day?"

The doctor finally managed to roll to his knees, and hunched in on himself, catching his breath. Terror darkened his eyes, terror for Abe; and all he could do was warily watch the attacker.

If only Abe hadn't come down...

Sean could see the cold terror in Henry's eyes, and it wasn't for his own well being, but for this newcomer. The old man. Probably his father, Sean surmised. Perfect, he thought. Gun trailed at Abe's chest, he dropped his finger down onto the trigger.

Time stopped.

Henry saw cruel understanding flash across the stranger's face, and realized exactly what he was going to do. When the man raised his gun and pulled the trigger, Henry was already in motion - exhausted reserves coming into play with desperation to protect the only family he had left. Even as he rose to his feet between the two, he closed his eyes - knowing that what was coming was unavoidable, no matter what the consequences.

The bullet fired, and penetrated in Henry's chest instead of Abraham's. It didn't take long for Henry to disappear to show up in some body of water, and for that, Abe was glad. At least, glad he was no longer in pain, not the fact he'd died... again. More weight felt like it had been added onto his aged shoulders, but it didn't stop him from speaking to the shocked Sean, "Get out of my house, and don't talk to anyone about this ever again, unless you like the idea of seeing the inside of a funny farm," he ground it out angrily. And so Sean did, although, it took a while for his goons to follow, finding the antique they had been looking for and following their leader, Sean. Abe didn't care about the antique. Let them take it.

With a heavy heart, the immortal's son waited by his phone for a call.

The doctor returned to life, gasping for breath. Blinking to adjust his eyes, he realized that he sat in a sink in the morgue where he worked. Reaching up to turn off the steadily dripping faucet, he made a mental note to remind Lucas in the morning to make sure everything was shut off when he left.

Carefully extricating himself from the sink, Henry grabbed an extra set of scrubs and pulled them on - thankful that spares were kept in the morgue. As he stepped into his office to use the phone to call Abe, everything came crashing down on him again. He barely managed to get to the other side of his desk before collapsing to the ground, trembling too hard to stay upright.

He had died, been tortured for information by someone who didn't care whether or not he ever answered - only that he was able to inflict pain, and had taken the shot meant for Abe. He had left Abe alone in the shop with those people, who would care nothing for an old man - a choked sob ripped its way from Henry's throat, and he curled in on himself. All thoughts of calling anyone had disappeared, for no one was left to call.

*TIME SKIP*

Jo came in to work early, unable to sleep and tired of waiting in her house. Looking through the case files atop her desk, she frowned at one and picked it up to get Henry's opinion on. Writing a quick note on a post it explaining the matter, she made her way over the morgue to leave it on Henry's desk.

The morgue was different - something was wrong. Not that she spent enough time in there to tell, of course - but it was obvious. Cautious, she scanned the room to verify it's emptiness; when she saw the door open to Henry's office, she unfastened her gun, but left it holstered. Softly placing the file down on a slab near her, she made her way to the office, and quickly looked it over.

There was nothing there.

Just as she relaxed and turned to leave the office, she heard something shift on the opposite side of Henry's desk. Wary again, but somehow knowing that it wasn't dangerous, she leaned over to see what was behind the wood.

"Henry!"

The doctor flinched at her sudden words, jerking his eyes up to meet hers. "...Jo?"

Her breath caught at the heartbroken look of despair in his eyes, and she knelt beside him. "Henry, what's wrong? What happened?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out.

The detective waited patiently, until he was ready to speak, just listening.

Finally, he was able to speak: "Abe...Abe's dead..."

Jo stared at him in shock as his sobs wracked his body and he buried his face in his hands. "Abe - Abe's dead?"

When Henry nodded, she wrapped an arm around him, trying to offer what little comfort she could. "How do you know? What killed him?" She whispered, trying to find out what exactly had happened the night before.

"I left him - he's dead. I couldn't save him. I tried. He's dead..."

Jo frowned at Henry's broken explanation, trying to make sense of it. The most she could understand was that Henry had done something to protect Abe, but had died in the process, and hadd apparently left Abe with whatever was originally threatening him. Hoping that maybe Henry was mistaken, or that Abe survived had was safely in the shop, she started to stand up to reach the phone.

Feeling her begin to leave, he held her wrist. "Please, Jo - don't call. I don't want him not to answer."

"Henry, it's either I call, or we go down to the shop in person to check."

He closed his eyes and released her, hunching in on himself and surrendering to the inevitable.

She quickly dialed the number and waited for the phone to stop ringing.

Abe quickly snatched up the phone, opening his mouth to answer when his throat decided he needed to swallow. "Henry?" he asked, his voice tinted with desperation. "Where are you?" he asked, already standing up on shaky legs and grabbing his jacket, "I'm coming to get you," he said, his voice cracking. That was when he realized no one had spoken yet.

Jo frowned at the desperation and fear soaking Abe's voice when he finally answered, opening her mouth to reply but was spoken over several times.

"Abe? It's me, Jo." She looked over at Henry, who had placed his hands over his ears as well.

Something had gone terribly wrong for the two last night, she realized, and she was ill-equipped to handle it.

"At the shop," Abe answered quickly. "Is Henry there? Is he there with you?" he pressed, pacing the floor, setting the handgun down on an antique piano. What if this was the one time Henry wouldn't come back? That thought sent some amount of panic through him, but he kept it in.

"Yes, he's here." She held the phone away for a moment and spoke to Henry: "Henry? He's okay - he's alive."

Henry shook his head. "He can't be. They killed him. He's dead."

She sighed and resumed talking to Abe. "He's in severe shock - he's convinced that you're dead. What happened?"

Waiting for a run-through of what happened that so terrified Henry, she considered the best way to get him safely back to the shop without a major scene.

"We got robbed, I heard come shots and came down to see Henry injured, the man almost killed me, he..." Abe stopped, letting out a heavy sigh as he sank into the nearest chair, "Henry got in the way. As soon as the robber saw him disappear he left, and his pal's took my newest antique, but at least they left. Can you put me on speaker?" Abe asked, his voice lined with soul-deep exhaustion.

"Oh." Jo processed what had just been told her, connecting the dots and seeing the whole picture. When Abe mentioned putting the phone on speaker, she blinked in confusion before realizing how simple it would be. "Oh! Of course!" Turning on the speaker phone, she set it down on the desk.

"Henry?" Abe drew out the name cautiously, waiting for some kind of reply. None came at first, so he continued, "I'm still alive and kicking," he said with a forced laugh.

Henry's head snapped up at the sound of Abe hesitantly calling his name. Unconsciously, he held his breath, waiting for something - anything! - else to come from the phone.

When Abe spoke again, Jo winced at the tasteless joke - but Henry's taught frame suddenly relaxed, relief flooding his body.

He opened his mouth to speak, but had to swallow. "...Abe?" He whispered, still terrified that this was all a hallucination of sorts - that the phone would disappear, and he would return to find Abe's body in the shop.

"No, it's Sean Connery," Abe quipped, huffing another aged laugh. "Jo, where are you guys?" he asked, "I'll just wait for you at the-" once again standing from his chair, he was about to walk to the door, but with a pained sound he plunked back down, "Chair I'm sitting in," he grumbled a different end for his sentence.

A small smile spread over Henry's face at Abe's sarcastic reply, as he finally began accepting that his son was still alive.

Jo began to relax as well, glad to see Henry and Abe acting normally (as ever) again. "We're at the morgue, in Henry's office - apparently, he's been here awhile. I'll bring him back now, he'll be glad to get into some comfortable clothes, I'm sure."

Henry tensed again as Abe sank back into his chair. "Abe? Abe, are you alright? What happened?" He pulled himself shakily to his feet, leaning on his desk and turning to face the phone.

"I'm fine, Henry, I'm fine," Abe replied, putting up a hand as if his father could see it. "I just think my back muscles are knotted," he explained quickly, regretting the small yelp seconds before. "And Jo - Thank you." Sighing, he rubbed a shaky hand over his eyes. "Dad, I'm sorry this happened, If-" the older-younger man snapped his teeth together. "I'll try and get the blood out before you get back."

Jo nodded. "You're welcome. We'll see you soon." She hung up when Abe finished talking and turned her full attention back to Henry.

His hands were tight around the edge of the desk, and he was trembling - worry for all that could have happened, and what did happen, and what Abe was not telling him ran through his mind. Abruptly straightening up, He turned to Jo, gesturing her towards the door. "Shall we?"

She nodded, impressed that he was able to keep his voice from breaking. While he made his way to her parked car, she ran into the precinct to fetch her purse, hurrying back out to find Henry sitting perfectly still - too still - in the passenger seat.

The drive back to the antique shop was silent and tense, and Jo almost expected Henry to jump out of the car and rush into the building as soon as she slowed.

Henry sat there for a moment while she shut off the car, and she turned to him in renewed worry. "Henry?"

He sighed. "What if he's there - what if he's dead?"

"Henry. You heard him talk to you - he's fine. Go." She reached across him and opened the door, pushing him out. "See for yourself."

He swallowed and cautiously went to the door of the shop, opening it as if he expected it to grow fangs and bite him. "Abe?"

Abe tromped to the door, somewhat covered in the blood he had been cleaning up. Wiping his hands on his pants he looked at the cautious version of his dad. "Hey!" he chirped as happily as he could manage. "I was about to make us some tea, just didn't get around to it yet," he said, putting on the mask he had put on many times before. The mask to hide his fears, his pain, mostly mental pain.

Henry studied Abe for any harm. He saw the wall go up across Abe's eyes, and winced. All of the strength left his body as he finally saw proof that Abe was physically unharmed from the mess the night before, and he stumbled, reaching for something to support himself with. He smiled weakly at Abe. "Tea would be appreciated, thank you..."

He sighed and closed his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Abraham - I should never have let him in..."

"Don't apologize, you didn't know," Abe replied, going to the other room to start making tea. He let it stay on the stove and came back for just a moment to check on Henry. "Everything's okay again," he said reassuringly.

Henry stared at Abe for a moment before pulling him into a suffocating hug. Reassuring himself that his son was not a hallucination, the doctor began crying, tears of fear, sorrow, relief, joy, and thankfulness.

It had hit Abe several times in his life, and this was another one of those times. Just how alone, how betrayed, how broken Henry must feel, living a life of death. Abe wrapped his arms around his father in a return hug, "Dad?" he whispered quietly, carefully, slowly, swallowing hard enough that it was loud.

Henry vaguely felt Abe's arms wrap around him, and tried to still his shuddering sobs - trying to bring himself back under control, not to worry his son.

"You should...have stayed up...upstairs. I will not risk...you - cannot...lost you! Please, don't...do that. I will be...be fine. Abe - I could have...lost you!"

"I know," Abe kept the distress out of his voice. "Okay," he lied, for his father's sake. What was he supposed to do? He was the one awoken by his only family's cries of agony, he was the reason it had happened in the long run, he was the one who had to pick up Henry after almost every death and see the haunted look in his eyes, and some days that was harder than it should have been.

A short laugh escaped Henry, and his desperate hug loosened somewhat. "Abraham - I thought I taught you better than to lie..."

He gave a shuddering sigh and reluctantly pulled back from his son, but still not entirely letting go. "I'm sorry, Abraham - you put up with so much, much more then you should... Thank you for staying with me."


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: We own nothing**

**Okay, so, no one has said anything for at least two of these one!shots... starting to get worried...?!**

The doctor tightened his scarf around his neck, checking the time on his watch as he walked. There was still time enough before he needed to return, and he relished the crisp wind blowing in off the water. Regardless of his relation to the sea and water, there was always something freeing about it - something clean and refreshing. He smiled, watching the birds wheel in the air above him.

...Trevor had to wonder how he had come to this situation. He'd been swimming in the river, (Yeah, maybe he wasn't exactly supposed to, but that was a small fact) and now there he was. Dying. The young man's fingers broke through the holes of the fishing net, and he tried to swim to the top, netting caught around his tall, gangly body. His lungs burned and his heart pounded harshly in fear. The nets grabbed him like cold, raw fingers, scrapping at his skin. He could see blood drifting to the surface of the water. 'Luckily, if I do die, my brother won't kill me later,' the twenty-ear-old thought optimistically. His older brother was autistic, and scarily protective.

His lungs instinctively gulped in a breath, desperately trying to find the much needed air. Water filled his lungs and he tried to grasp his throat, but the fishing net wrapped haphazardly around his arms stopped him.

Henry's steps faltered, and he frowned as he heard something in the river. Turning away from the birds to glance over the surface of the water, he waited to see anything. For a moment, the water was unbroken - swept away by natural eddies and currents - but then he saw a splash out of the corner of his eye, and saw a hand push through the surface before sinking again.

The doctor's eyes widened as he realized what he saw: there was someone trapped beneath the water! Quickly shedding his coat, scarf, shoes, and watch, he ran down to the side of the river and jumped in, aiming for where he had seen the person last. Swimming blindly through the river, his hand snagged on a wriggling net, and he started to pull it towards the surface.

Trevor coughed out a bubble, the last of his air, watching in betrayal as it floated out of his reach. He tried to find whatever was pulling him, he didn't know whether to try and stop it, or let it happen. Was he going up, or down? To the surface, or to the river's depths? He practically hugged the newcomer, still fighting the restraining fishing nets.

Henry pushed the boys head above the water, struggling to hold him up and unwrap the heavy net from around his body. The boy's struggles to free himself were not helping - although the doctor understood why he fought.

Trevor trying to cough out the water, inhaling fresh air as deeply as he could, despite the pain burning with every breath. Hands trying to keep himself above the water, he panted heavily, the wounds stinging from the biting air. "It's like..." he coughed as his voice came out rough and pitiful, his throat burning. "'s like learn'n t' swim with'out floaties... all o'er again."

Despite the situation, a smile spread across Henry's face at the boy's words - images of teaching Abe how to swim coming to his mind.

"Can you breathe now?" He asked, wishing he had a knife or scissors to cut the net - but knowing it would probably have been too thick for one he would have carried. As he painstakingly and quickly attempted to untangle the stranger, he felt the current spin them around in the water, and he kicked the loose net away from his own feet.

"What's breathe?" Trevor joked, finally getting his breathing to steady somewhat. "Thanks," he wheezed, feeling the net start to untangle from around him. His long legs kicked in an attempt at keeping himself above the cold, dark surface.

Henry laughed, coughing as the current splashed water into his face. "Good. And you're welcome," He added, finally pulling the rest of the net free from the stranger and pushing him away. "There. Swim for shore now."

Trevor nodded briskly, starting to swim back to the shore. "You know, 'thought it was really over for a minute there, then you were there, and I was breathing, and at least someone noticed, I really though-" he turned around in the water, only to see he wasn't being followed.

Once Henry pushed the boy away from the net, he himself also tried to swim away from the snare. However, just as he kicked out for shore, the current spun him back around - straight into the net.

At first, it pulled him under, but he was able to swim back to the surface, gulping air, and trying to untangle the net from around himself. As he pulled experimentally at it, trying to find the edge, it seemed to grow tighter, constricting him until he could barely move at all.

As he floated downstream, he could see the boy saying something, clearly expecting to be followed. As the doctor slipped beneath the water, he saw the boy turn around to look behind him.

Henry mused on the irony of his situation, quickly sinking through the murky water, bound up in a net and unable to truly do anything to save himself. It was ironic that the very medium that would heal him and deliver him back to life would, this time, be the cause of his death.

His mind grew fuzzy on the edges, and he involuntarily thrashed against the net, desperately trying to hold his breath. He hated drowning - memories of an asylum, and of countless days spent in an empty ocean sprang to his mind. But at least the boy was safe. The doctor was willing to die, knowing it wouldn't permanently harm him - as long as those more fragile remained safe.

...Trevor wildly swam back, all flailing arms and legs. "I'm comin, I'm comin!" he hollered, trying to spot the man who'd saved him. He saw a hand thrashing above the water and madly dove towards it, still a ways away. "Hang on, Buddy!" he yelled, "Hold on mi amigo!" he practically screamed.

Convulsively, Henry gasped for breath, choking as all that entered was water. Fire erupted in his lungs, and he tried in vain to cough the water out - only succeeding in bring in more water. His hands struggled against the net; both trying to lift and clear his throat, and free him from the binds. As the pain was muted behind a wall of night and silence, Henry's last thought was rueful wonder about where he would reappear.

Henry pushed towards the water's surface, gasping for air as he broke through. Breathing deeply, thankful for both the oxygen and the chance to save the boy's life, he treaded water for a few moments.

Trevor looked as the man popped up a few feet from where he'd been seconds before, treading water. "You're alive!" the twenty-year-old exclaimed, ecstatic. He threw his arms in the air, water droplets spraying everywhere. " Estás vivo!" he yelled happily, running one hand through his short, soaked hair and grinning madly, laughing.

Startled, Henry spun around in the water to face the boy, surprised to realise that he had not changed location.

"I'm...alive?" He replied, semi-coherently.

"Yeah, man!" Trevor replied, waving as he tried to swim faster to catch up. "I thought you were gonna kick the bucket for a little while there!" he said, panting heavily as he swam.

Catching his breath, and trying to regain equilibrium in a situation he never expected, the doctor watch the boy swim closer.

"Rather..." He frowned as he realised his situation. "Perhaps you could return to shore? As you can see, I am well - I will follow."

"Yeah, you said that last time!" Trevor replied. "You sure you're okay? I mean, there's nothing you need? Like, EMTS?" he asked, absent mindedly looking behind himself at the shore.

"I assure you, this time I will be quite safe - thank you." He began to swim for shore, trying to keep a little behind the boy all along. "If you would, fetch my coat perhaps? I would appreciate it greatly."

"Oh-uh... Yeah!" Trevor clambered out of the water, searching the ground for the man's jacket. Seeing the coat he snatched it up, spinning back around and jogging awkwardly back toe the water, soaking clothes hanging off of him and dripping water. "This one?" he held up the coat.

Ducked mostly beneath the water still, Henry nodded and grabbed the coat, carefully extricating his watch and scarf from it. Thankful for it's length, he carefully stood up, buttoning it tight. "Thank you very much. May I ask your name?"

"Trevor, Sir. Trevor McAdam's." Trevor half waved, half peace signed. "What's your name?" he asked. He wrung out his shirt, flicking the water off of his hands before scrubbing a hand through his hair to dry it.

"Dr. Henry Morgan. It's a pleasure to meet you, Trevor - although not under ideal circumstances." He offered a hand to the boy. "Perchance, would you happen to have a phone with you that may still function?"

"You're a doctor? And uh... yeah! It's supposed to be waterproof, that's half of the reason I took a swim! Wanted to see if they lied," Trevor said with a casual shrug, digging through his soggy pockets until he pull out the cell. "Tadaa!" he said, holding it up in triumph. "Now it's time for the test that I almost gave my life for..." he said ominously, handing Henry the mobile.

Henry smiled and shook his head, gratefully accepting the phone. Dialing, he asked, "How old are you? And yes, I am a doctor." He added.

"Just turned twenty, Dr. Morgan," Trevor replied, his eyes on the phone as if he expected it to blow up any second. Luckily, it didn't.

Chuckling at Trevor's wary look, Henry waited for the phone to stop ringing.

"In the future, Trevor, perhaps placing the phone in a bowl of water would be safer - and serve the same purpose."

"Meeehh, yeah- but that's totally boring," Trevor groaned, tossing his arms away from himself before the dropped back down.

"Perhaps - but trust me. Dying is not worth the excitement."

"Yes. I'm sorry you got mixed into this," Trevor said, swallowing hard and looking apologetically at Morgan.

"No, Trevor - it's fine. While I agree that 'twould have been better had I not needed to be involved, I am very grateful that I was here." The phone was finally picked up. "Hello?"

"So am I," Trevor's voice dropped into a whisper when someone answered the phone.

"Henry?" Jo's confused voice answered. "Why are you calling me? You took a break and aren't needed at the office for nearly another hour..."

Henry motioned for Trevor to stay put before turning slightly to speak into the phone. "My apologies, Detective. I was...inconvenienced at the river - would you be kind enough to pick me up and take me home? I'd certainly appreciate it..."

He heard her sigh, and then the sound of her gather her purse and coat, calling out to someone across the building.

"Fine, Henry - which river?"

He quickly gave her directions.

Starting the car, she muttered, "How did you manage on your own..."

He briefly smiled. "Very carefully. Thank you, detective."

"Fine - I'll be there in under a half hour."

He thanked her again and then hung up, turning back and holding the phone out to Trevor. "Tell me, do you have a way to return home?"

"Yeah- crap, speaking of which, my brother is going to be livid. I should go, uh- thank you!" Trevor said, grinning. He took his phone, dialing a number himself and putting it up to his ear, waiting, even as he turned around and started walking. He looked over his shoulder, waving and mouthing 'bye'.

Henry smiled and waved, mouthing 'good bye, and good luck!' after the boy. He sighed and settled down to wait for Jo, looking up from the swirling currents to the wheeling birds in the sky.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hannah wrote this one! :D Give her a hand, folks! *Starts the clapping* It's really good, in my opinion, at least!**

_"140603. 182236. 31299..." _

_He swayed on his feet as he tried to stifle the wracking cough that shook his weakened frame. Stilling, he swallowed the blood he had coughed up – unwilling to betray himself so clearly. The sharp voice barking out assigned numbers was moving closer towards him down the long line of people. _

_ The old, the infirm, the children, the sick – the useless were not suffered the room, food, nor even the air to live. And now he had fallen into the trap as well, just another number lost to the ovens – he wished he had done a better job of hiding his illness._

_ He flinched as the voice passed before him and called him out. He stumbled forward, trembling. He was a doctor – he knew what would happen. After so many years, he still feared death, even though it held no threat for him. Even though he knew that this was his escape, he still wished to delay the inevitable. _

_ The voice droned on down the line, the numbers filling the background and cuing faces to the doctor's mind. This one he had helped carry a heavy load; this one, he had given his bread – another, his water; this one had five children; this one was the only one left of the family... He knew their stories, and prayed that someone else will live to tell them to others._

_The selected were marched forward, stumbling through the looming doors of the chambers. Many of them knew what awaited them, although others denied the possibility – to the doctor, it seemed as if Death himself guarded the door; and even he wished to turn the entrants away._

_The door was sealed shut, and the silence was broken by the raspy breathing of the people inside. The doctor flinched as pellets fell from the roof into the room, sliding off his hair and shoulders. Broken prayers and sobbing cries filled the room, as the reality of their execution fell upon the people._

_The poison filled the air, and the voices fell silent and died. He collapsed to the ground, ineffectually trying to clear his throat and breathe. All around him, the others fell; and he wept for the useless waste of life. _

Henry sat up in his bed with an abrupt gasp, the nightmare still clinging to him. Letting out his breath with a shuddering sigh, he wearily pushed back the covers and got out of bed, feeling for his slippers. Wrapping a dressing gown around himself, he stepped out into the hallway, seeming to relax in the light.

Standing in the hallway, he could hear Abe breathing; and he listened, reassuring himself that it was only a dream – this time. He took a deep breath and straightened up. A pot of hot tea, some work in his laboratory, and then he would go back to bed. He frowned as his slippers slid on the floor, having no traction. He needed a new pair...

He carefully felt his way down the stairs, the light from the hall not being enough to clearly show his way. Candles did have their advantages, he mused – there would always be one beside the bed should any awake in the middle of the night. Of course, they gave weak light, and -

His wandering thoughts broke off as his foot slid back on the step, pitching him forward. Mentally, a voice decided that this was a terrible night for living (to which he replied that saying such was tempting fate – it was a worse night for dying), and that he should have stayed in bed. He was certainly beginning to agree with the second part... The fall seemed to take forever, and yet pass in an instant; and then he lay where he fell on the landing.

The analytical voice in the back of his mind calmly informed him that his neck was broken at C2, and that he would suffocate soon. Struggling for breath, he mused over whether suffocating, or lying paralyzed at the foot of the steps until Abe awoke was better. Of course, spinal shock would have been the best – or even not falling at all – but that was irrelevant.

Suffocating in a dream, and now suffocating in reality – as his vision and consciousness blacked out, he mentally shook his head at is ill luck.

Henry broke the surface of the water, gasping for air, as usual. He had known he needed new slippers, but was dying and having them disappear really the impetus he required to replace them? Sighing, he treaded water and looked around where he had appeared.

The water was still and dark, cold against his skin, and he shivered. He could faintly see lights above the glass walls surrounding the aquarium, but they were all dark. He frowned as he realised that it would be difficult to climb out of the tank.

He felt something brush by his foot, and he looked down into the water, trying to see what was beneath him. The water was broken beside him, and he spun to look, fear beginning to make itself known. Momentarily, he considered drowning himself and escaping, but his fear of that was greater than that of what might be in the water and held him back.

He felt something brush by him again, and a sharp pinch on his leg. Looking down, he thought he saw red tinting the water around him, but discarded it as his imagination as the water was too dark to see clearly. Suddenly, there was piercing pain around his leg, and he was jerked beneath the water.

Coughing water out of his lungs, he broke through the surface again. His vision had whited out from pain, but he could smell copper beginning to mingle with the smell of the aquarium. Frozen in shock, he weakly tried to stay afloat. He could see the dark shape moving through the water, circling back to return to him, and he instinctively tried to swim away. Feeling unconsciousness pull heavily on his mind, he let go and welcomed it, fading out just as the jaws closed in on him again.

He sat upright with a gasp, inhaling..bath bubbles? Confused, he opened his eyes to look around for a moment, but then slammed them shut and fell backwards beneath the water again as he realised what that meant: he was in a lady's bath!

Jo froze as the man sat upright in her bath and splashed her with water and bubbles, her hand barely brushing the top of the water where she had been testing the temperature. Reflexively, she made to pull her robe tighter around her, but stopped when she remembered she hadn't changed yet. Ever grateful that, this time, she had decided to check the water before changing, she relaxed again.

She frowned, mentally replaying what she had just seen: Henry had appeared in her bathtub, and had then disappeared back beneath the bubbles. She smiled at the incongruous picture of the M.E. with bubbles in his hair. Not wanting him to die again, at least not in her own house, she reached in, grabbed his neck, and pulled him out of the water again.

"Henry Morgan. Just what do you think you're doing?" She let herself smile at the way he refused to open his eyes.

"I'm not looking! I apologise, I didn't mean to – Jo?"

She started laughing at his embarrassment and confusion. "Yes, Henry. And I'm still dressed, you can open your eyes."

He cautiously opened them, and then sighed in relief. "My apologies, Detective – I did not plan to be here."

"That's very good!" She got up and pulled the green robe down from it's hook behind the door, bringing it back to him and turning around while he put it on. "If you planned it, I might be tempted to kill you again myself."

He smiled, stepping out of the tub. "Rather."

"And how did you die this time?" She asked, leading him into the kitchen, where she could grab her purse and keys.

"I fell down the steps – really, Jo, you needn't put yourself out. I can walk home – your water will be cold if you take me."

"Henry! You're in a bathrobe – you're not walking home."

He sighed. "You're quite right, but I could always call Abe -"

"At this hour? He's likely still asleep, and there's no need to worry him. Come on," She gently pushed him out the door, "It's not a problem."

"Very well." He surrendered, and climbed into the passenger seat, fastening his seat belt as she started the car.

The ride was quickly over, as Jo laughed at a humourous recollection of Henry's, which he told her while she drove. All too soon, they pulled up in front of the shop and said goodnight. Smiling, he watched her car drive away, leaving the night still as she left.

**Yay! That's that. Thank you for reading! _Gramercy! _;) **


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: We own nothing BUT the OC**

**And, infact, THIS OC IS NOT REALLY AN OC: He's from a book series! Turn of the Tides, VanillaJ1967 and myself write this series. So... That's where he's from! Anyways, on to the story! After I thank ALL OF YOU for the LOVELY AMAZING reviews! :D They brightened my days! ;) :D**

Henry frowned, tapping his fingers against the silver lid on his watch, having just checked the time. He was lost in thought, running through the facts of a case they were working on at the precinct, and pulling on his experience to see if there was anything he could do to shed light on anything.

The day was bright, and he was free for the afternoon, having caught up in the morgue - for once. The streets he was walking along were mostly empty, as he had wandered in his musings far from his normal paths to places he had been long before.

As he walked, a sound surfaced above his thoughts. He frowned - not being able to place it at first, but feeling - a sense of dread – arose at the fast approaching sound. Suddenly he turned towards the sound, having realized that it was a car driving directly at him; but it was too late. Instinctively, he turned to jump out of the way, but as the car collided with him, he mourned the loss of yet ANOTHER scarf. Everything was metal vs. human flesh, blood against green paint, screeching tires and dying breaths.

Henry jerked back to life with his habitual gasp, filling his lungs with air, and looking around at his surroundings. As he woke, he lost his balance and fell off a stone birdbath to the slightly muddy ground beneath. 

He sighed, stretching a little to loosen his muscles. Sometimes, the accidental deaths, or random deaths, were worse. Sometimes, it was easier to know there was a reason - be it greed, avarice, jealousy, love, or something else - behind the hand orchestrating his death; sometimes it was easier to see a face for his killer instead of an object.

Curious as to where he had awoken this time, the Doctor looked around at the property he had appeared on.

...Treelor had been watching his birdbath, admiring the creatures that had flown in and out of the stone palate-type thing. What had happened next, not as admire-worthy. "Whoa!" Treelor exclaimed, flailing in his lawn chair and throwing his arms up to cover his eyes. "Dat's GRAPHIC!"

Henry sighed. He much preferred reappearing along, when no one else saw him - it certainly made things less awkward. 

"Excuse me? Do you have a towel I may borrow, and a phone I may use?"

Treelor jumped off of his chair, darting inside, his bare feet hitting the green grass of his lawn. He snatched a towel and a bath robe from his bathroom, then a cell phone on his way out. He hopped over a line of potted plants. "I's comin', I'S COMIN!"

Henry held out a hand, thankful that the stranger didn't immediately call the police. 

"Thank you very much, I'm sorry to have inconvenienced you."

Treelor helped him up, handing him the towel and draping the robe over his shoulders. "Dat's okay - Don' know what happened, but dat's okay!" he exclaimed, the whites around his eyes showing obviously. "'Name's Treelor, If I may ask y' for yours?"

Henry pulled the robe tight, nodding his thanks. "I'm Henry," He held out a hand, "It's a pleasure to meet you - albeit under unpleasant circumstances."

Treelor returned the handshake vigorously. "Yeh! Da pleasures all mine, Henry! Don' know how you'z showed up in meh birdbath, though." He held up his palms, "But I don' think I wanna know!"

Henry smiled. "Perhaps not - 'tis unlikely that you would believe me anyway." 

He looked around for the phone, having not seen where it went.

"Yeh!" Treelor's eyes grew wide once again, contrasting against his darker skin. "Oh -" he said, pulling it out of his brown jacket's pocket where he had put it. He crammed it into one of Henry's hands that wasn't holding the front of the robe together. "Here!"

"Oh, thank you!" He took the phone and dialed in the number of the Antique Shop, praying that Abe wasn't out looking for purchases that day. 

He smiled at the man's energetic actions. "Do you live here alone, may I ask?"

"No, 'course not!" Treelor said, shaking his head. "Dere's Blueberry Jen. She's a parrot, but still! She talks an' everythin'!"

"Ah, of course - you can never be alone when a pet is with you."

"Dat's right!" Treelor exclaimed with a wide smile.

The ringing of the phone finally stopped, and he turned away from Treelor to speak to Abe. "It's just Henry, would you please pick me up?"

He covered the phone and turned back to the man. "Pardon, but what is the address?"

Treelor rattled off the address.

Henry nodded his thanks, turning back to his son on the phone. Repeating it, he waiting while Abe wrote it down and read it back to him. With assurances that he would be picked up soon, the doctor said goodbye and hung up, handing the phone back to Treelor.

"Thank you."


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you all for reading! Enjoy, mi amigo's! Disclaimer: I own nothing**

Henry sat on the park bench, watching the birds flit across the grass and humming Beethovens 'For Elise'. His fingers tapped out the melody on the boards of the bench, almost as if he played it on the keys of a piano.

He was waiting, waiting for the time to pass and he could return to the shop. Not that he couldn't return now, of course; but he wanted to spend some time outside, away from everyone and the worry of daily life. Nature was always so peaceful, so uncaring of the demands of 'normality' and accepting of everyone - it was a relief sometimes.

Coming down the street, he could hear a car quickly approaching, and the birds scattered at the loud sound. He sighed, looking in the direction of the vehicle, wondering what demanded the driver to be in such a hurry. As he turned to look, he gasped as he saw the car drive off the road, colliding with a fire hydrant.

The following events passed by in both a blur, and in crystal clarity. He could see the car impact; could see the hydrant break off, launched into flight by the force of the water pressure; remembered thinking that there was no time to do anything - remembered throwing up his hands to block the blow; and then - nothing.

Henry jerked upright with a gasp, his hands abortively coming up to shield his head before he remembered he had appeared that time - wincing as the soap ran into his eyes.

... Lucas was not sure what had driven him to get a car wash that day, at that time, but there he was... The building was huge, and looked like something straight out of a syfy movie, if he were being honest. He grinned; it was like that one episode in... His thoughts were derailed as someone knocked on his window. He rolled it down. "Sir, you can stay in your car until you reach that door over there, then we'll have one of our people drive it out into the parking lot after the waxing, and she'll be all yours, cleaned and shined!" piped the chipper voice.

"Okay!" he replied, and the man backed off, letting the car be attached to the conveyor belt (No, seriously, it looked like a conveyer belt) and the thing be turned on, slowly taking the car into the tunnel of darkness. 'Like a Borg cube.'

...Shutting his eyes tightly against the soap, Henry blindly felt his way to the wall of the carwash, not wishing to be run over and die again so soon. He longed to open his eyes, to rub away the sting, but knew better - he could only wait in darkness until the rinse water came on and he could clean his hands as well.

...Lucas hummed quietly, waiting for his car to reach the area that he was supposed to get out. He could see he was approaching the soaping cycle, just after the rinse, and just beyond that he could see a door off to the left. He looked off to the side, then back in front of the car. His eyes bulged, and he did a double-take. Shaking himself out of his shock, he looked around to make sure none of the workers were watching, before reaching over to the passenger side, opening the door. "Dr. Morgan?" he whispered, or his equivalent of a whisper.

...Henry jerked his head toward the sound of his name. He tried to place the voice, but the low volume and the sound of the carwash around him made it impossible. Taking a chance, he stood up and carefully made his way toward the voice, praying that he would break something in the process.

Lucas reached into the back, snatching up the shock blanket, (Always gotta be prepared, right?) and waiting for Henry. "Is this for a case, Doc?" he asked, handing the blanket and looking away to give the other man some sort of privacy.

Reaching the car, Henry stumbled into the blanket, gratefully wrapping it around himself and sliding into the passenger seat, shutting the door after him. Once safely inside, he used an edge of the blanket to wipe the soap out of his eyes, blinking them clear.

"Lucas?" He turned to the driver, uncertain whether to be thankful or apprehensive that his assistant had been the one to find him.

"That's what they call me," Lucas replied. He put a hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on one of his legs. "I'm not even going to ask. Again, like I said before, what you do in your spare time is what you do in your spare time. I mean, if people knew some of the things I do... That sounded wrong."

Henry smiled, relaxing. "Thank you."

He frowned and looked around. "By the way, where am I?"

Lucas sent him a puzzled look, but didn't question it, only answered, "That would be Octopus Car Wash." Speaking of which... they were nearing the door. He saw one of the workers stat to move towards the door, waiting for him. Crap. "Doctor - please get in the back, please hide under the blanket, and please don't say a word."

Henry opened his mouth to reply that yes, he knew they were in a car wash - but where in the city was that! But the harried requests from Lucas silenced him, and the doctor carefully maneuvered the tricky passage between the front and back seats. Lying on the floorboards, he covered up and waiting; confused as to why, but trusting his assistant.

Lucas opened the drivers side, looking at the woman who came up to him. "Okay, just go through that door, follow the long hallway; you can buy snacks and drinks from the Vending machine if you like. Someone will come and show you to your car after the waxing." Lucas smiled at her. "Oh- and if you would leave your keys, I need to drive it out, and through."

Lucas nodded, "I'll just leave my jacket if that's alright," and after she nodded confirmation, he draped it over the other M.E, making it look more like a blanket and jacket pile then what it really was. He hopped out, watching nervously as she got in and the car moved forward again.

Henry listened to the conversation being held above him, gathering information as to what was going on. He felt the jacket being laid over him, and lay as still as possible, barely breathing. He felt the car moving, heard doors opening and shutting, and could sense people busily working around the vehicle. Waiting, he wondered why it couldn't have happened that he reappeared at least clothed - or in his house; and prayed that nothing would happen to reveal his presence.

...Lucas didn't know how long he waited, but eventually someone came to get him. He hurried after the Octopus Car Wash employee, looking out in the parking lot until he saw his car. He breathed out a sigh of relief, walking towards it, having already paid while in the building. He thanked them as he passed, and quickly slid into the drivers seat. "Dr. Morgan?"

Henry debated for a second whether or not to answer, but decided that - since Lucas could actually see what was happening - it must be safe to speak.

"Yes, Lucas? I'm still here."

"Okay - I'm driving now. Where do you want me to take you? I just drove out of the parking lot. And now I'm on Albemarle Terrace. Now I'm switching lanes -"

Henry sighed, pushed the jacket off, and sat up.

"Yes, Lucas - there is no need to narrate your actions to me. Would you be so kind as to take me to Abe's shop, please?"

"Oh. Yeah, I can do that." Lucas nodded, and drove towards Abe's shop. It was close enough, so it didn't take to long to get there.

"Okay, we're here," Lucas stated, although, Henry would be able to see that just as well as Lucas. Still worth stating.

Henry sighed in relief, thankful to be back safely - and very grateful that Lucas had been there to find him, and not ask questions.

"Lucas, I...thank you." He nodded, and got out of the car, keeping the blanket wrapped around him. "I'll bring this to work tomorrow then?"

"You're welcome! Yeah, sounds good!" Lucas waved.

Waving in return, Henry entered the shop. As he made his way upstairs to change into more...appropriate, apparel, he bemoaned the loss of a lovely afternoon - and thanked heaven for loyal friends.


	11. Chapter 11

**I'm rather happy with this one! Anyways, disclaimer, we don't own anything still... Thank you, Hannah Lynn McDonald, for writing this with me, as always! It's such an honor, and quite fun! :D**

**Enjoy!**

The Doctor sighed, his hands fidgeting in his pockets. Although he walked with the flow of people along the sidewalk, it seemed as if he walked faster than they. Cars passed by, dangerously close to the curb upon which he walked; but he was oblivious to them, caught up in his own thoughts.

Waiting at an intersection for the light to change and signal their safe crossing, he took out his watch, checking the time again. There was a squeal of tyres, and he looked up. Horrified, he watched as a car drive through the red signal into the intersection, and was broadsided by another car. The second car spun around, but came safely to a stop - but there was no movement in the first.

... Jenna couldn't think straight. One minute everything had been all right, the next, there was pain and shock covering every inch of her body. There was an odd sound coming from the back of the car, a clunking hissing. But a hissing was coming from the hood as well, so she could hardly tell them apart.

Forgetting about the watch he held in his hand, he dropped it and moved towards the totaled car. Underneath it all, no matter what his excuse, he was still a physician - and his first instinct was always to heal.

Reaching the car, he peered through the window, searching for the driver. There was hissing, and smoke, and debris everywhere - but he focused on the body still buckled into her seat.

...Jenna blinked blearily. She could see smoke, and something white, but her vision was blurry. Her head hurt. She reached a hand up, feeling something in front of her like a hard pillow. She moaned, pulling her face away from the airbag. She tried to move, only to have sharp pain shooting through her neck and leg. A scream ripped from her throat.

Henry jerked back at the sound of her scream, both relieved and pained to know she was conscious. Leaning in through the window, he quickly examined her, assessing her injuries. Knowing that she was frightened and hurting, he began talking; letting her know she wasn't alone.

"'Tis alright, you're alive and I will get you out of here. Do you have a name, something i may call you? How old are you? Where were you going?" Trying to distract her, he began asking her questions.

"Jenna," she all-but sobbed, "I can't move my legs," she cried helplessly, covering her face with a hand as she tried to stop her crying. It only made it worse. The blond haired woman put her hand through the shattered window, gingerly feeling the shards of glass with a bloody, bruised hand. She didn't turn her head, as the whiplash send agony down her spine. "I'm scared," she sobbed in a whisper, trying to find the owner of the voice.

"Thank you, Jenna. You can't move your legs? Can you feel them?" He saw the aborted movement of her head, and gently pulled her hand away from the window, holding it. "My name is Henry. I'm a doctor. I'm on the passenger side, leaning in through the window. I know you're scared, but I'll get your out of this safely." He promised.

As he spoke, he attempted to open the passenger door; but the impact had jammed it shut. "Jenna, I'm going to move around the car to the driver's side - I'm not leaving you; I'll be right back." Squeezing her hand before letting go, he hurried around the car to the opposite side, trying the door there.

Jenna nodded, pulling her hand back to her body. She decided that her brother was right when he said she shouldn't have gotten a smarts car. She gasped in a shuddering breath, and tried to move her legs again. Pain worked through them. She bit back a broken wail, turning he upper body enough to see the doctor. "I - I think they're broken."

He fiddled with the driver side door as well, but the computerised locks had jammed there as well. He reached through the window, taking her hand again.

"Well, you can still feel them - broken is better than paralysed." He leaned into the car again, and was relieved to see that her legs weren't trapped within the vehicle. Straightening up again, he glanced over the car, frowning at the smoke.

He hated to pressure her - but this would distract her, and she would likely know best. "Jenna? What do you know about your car? Are you in danger if I leave you within until the medics arrive?"

"I - I don't know," Jenna replied shakily. She had no idea, just that she'd been warned about how dangerous car crashes could be with a car so small. She swallowed, closing her eyes and weakly pressing a hand against her eyes. Her head was pounding, her left arm must have been dislocated, then there were her legs... She didn't want to die. What if she had internal bleeding, or something? She didn't want to die; she was still terrified.

Seeing her breathing begin to speed up, he leaned back into the car. "Calm, Jenna - you're fine. I don't see anything leaking, so the car may be safe..." He frowned. "But I also know that I don't want to play with chance any more than we already have."

He checked her pulse, soothing her, and debating whether or not to remove her.

Jenna leaned her head against him, trying to ease the pain in her neck. She gripped his wrist, the one checking her pulse, for dear life. "Thank you," she breathed, then as soon as she'd said it, she turned into a broken record, repeating it under her breath. Then she was crying in relief. Really, Jenna? She thought, could she just not calm down like every character ever and just quietly suffer through it with some sort of dignity? But no - not Jenna Morris.

He smiled softly, letting her lean against him. Rubbing circles on her shoulders, he made his decision and began looking at his options for removing her from the car.

"Jenna? Jenna, I want to take you out of the car - but it will be very painful. Would you rather wait for the paramedics?"

Jenna nodded, breathing deeply. "Please get me out," she said, in an asking tone, half pleading, half saying it would be all right. The young woman rubbed at her tear-soaked, ruined make-up covered face.

He nodded. "I will. Just...trust me." He sighed, knowing that this process would be far from easy. As he readied himself to begin, he quickly told her what he was going to do.

"Jenna, I'm going to lift you out of the window, and then carry you over there to the sidewalk." He pointed. "If I could, I would knock you out, but you likely have a cuncussion and shouldn't be unconscious - so try to remain awake.

"And Jenna?" He paused before beginning. "You just lived through an accident and are in shock - you are allowed to cry. Dignity holds no candle to relief."

Jenna tried to smile, but it came out as a watery grimace-grin of sorts. She bit her lip and nodded for the millionth time it seemed, wrapping her good arm around his neck.

He wrapped one arm around her shoulders, and the other beneath her knees. Steeling himself, He lifted her, angling her body so her head didn't hit the frame of the car, and her legs didn't move too much.

Jenna sputtered, fingernails digging into his neck. She apologized quietly, burying her face in his shoulder.

He shushed her, steadying himself and finding his balance when he finally negotiated her release from the car. The momentary pain in his neck, or the strain on his muscles was nothing compared to what she felt; that, he knew.

Walking as smoothly as he could, he carried her over the the sidewalk, laying her down upon it. Shedding his coat and scarf, he folded the scarf beneath her head and covered her with the coat. 

"There. You are safely out." He gently smoothed her hair out of her face. "Someone has called an ambulance, and you'll be in a hospital soon."

The young woman with the hot-toffee colored hair blinked up at him. Her body throbbed painfully, and for a moment she wished she hadn't survived the crash. Then she realized. The other driver, she hadn't seen him. "What about," she swallowed, and the breath she let out was close to a silent wail, "The other driver - is he, okay?"

I do not know, yet." He quickly examined her again - able to see clearly now that she was out of the vehicle. 

"Jenna, you are not going to die - none of your injuries are life-threatening. Just lie still and be quiet - I'll be back soon."

Henry stood up, looking for the other car. Seeing it, he went towards the car, searching for movement within as he walked.

Drawing near the second vehicle, he felt his stomach drop when he saw no movement within. Praying that the driver was alive - if unconscious or wounded, fine; but still alive - he peered through the window. The interior was dark, but he sighed in relief when he saw that it was empty - that the driver must have gotten out on his own. He straightened up - overjoyed that there were no deaths connected with this accident - and turned to walk back to Jenna.

As he skirted the rapidly spreading puddle flowing from beneath the car, he frowned; a sense of worry prodding him. He hesitated, attempting to pin down the cause of the worry, and heard an unexpected noise from behind him.

The explosion was massive; and he knew nothing until he reappeared, gasping for breath. Smothering the cry of fear and pain that was prompted by memory and experience, he struggled upright. Forcing himself to stop trembling, he looked around and realised that he had fallen off a bureau when he first awoke. 

He frowned in confusion, and looked around for the water that brought him there. Seeing the shards of glass and puddles of water littering the ground around his feet, he smiled in understanding and carefully picked up the goldfish. Standing up and first confirming that the hallway was empty, he found the bathroom and quickly ran a cup of water for the fish. He dropped the fish into the cup, shaking his head at the absurd situations he found himself in at times. 

Taking a deep breath, and whispering a prayer of thanks that no one else had been near the second vehicle, he took a towel off a shelf and wrapped it around himself.

...Abe did not think that this date was going well. Stephanie was honestly starting to make him uncomfortable, (And, being honest, that didn't happen often) but this... relationship, was bordering on something close to a child's first extreme crush. That was her, not him. She was falling all over him. "Stephanie, I'll be back in a minute," he said, and didn't wait for a reply before walking as fast as his body allowed him to. Maybe there was a backdoor somewhere... 

So, one could imagine his surprise upon seeing his father. Why did this keep happening, exactly?

Henry's eyes widened in shock at seeing Abe there, and he opened his mouth to offer an excuse; shutting it seconds later when he realised that Abe already knew the only reason he would randomly appear somewhere without clothing.

"...The fish is safe?" He hesitated. "Would you happen to be able to smuggle me out of wherever we are?"

Abe looked exasperated. "What happened this time? Henry, if you die one more time..." Abe sputtered and coughed, throwing out his arms, "I'll kill you!" he finished. He sobered up. "Of course I can smuggle you out, who do you think I am?"

Henry was extremely glad he had found a towel first - though he may act indifferent, two hundred years still hadn't cured him of embarrassment. 

"...There was an accident and the car exploded. And, honestly, I was not attempting to die - I have quite enough research on that particular method. And you have killed me quite often before." He looked around the bathroom again. "Abraham, where exactly are we?

"Not that many times," Abe mumbled under his breath. All though, he could recall the fear of each and every time - what if this was it? What if this time, he was really dead? Abe pushed the thoughts away. "Where are we? You don't wanna know. Come on, I was trying to escape anyways."

Henry winced, realizing how inconsiderate his words would seem - even if they were not meant as such. He sighed and shook his head at Abe's dramatics, gesturing him out. "Very well. I shall follow your lead."

Abe nodded, and continued his search for the backdoor. It didn't take to long to find, and once he did, he opened the door for both he and Henry, and tried to figure out a way to get to his car safely.

As his son led him out of the house to the car, Henry kept reminding himself to breathe - that holding his breath would have no impact on whether or not they were discovered. When they reached the car, Henry climbed in with a sigh of relief.

"Now why did you get in a car explosion?" Abe asked.

"I was at an intersection... a car was blindsided- although she survived without lasting damage...checked on the second car...driver was safely out, but it exploded before I was out of range." He answered, some of his words muffled as he looked around for a spare jacket in the car.

"Ah," Abe simply stated, and started driving towards the shop.

Henry sighed and gave up searching for a jacket, settling back into his seat as Abe drove home. 

The legend said that Life and Death were brothers, working together - one the guardian of beginnings, and the other of endings. Then, it said that Life was greedy and absorbed Death - but this weakened the being, and Life had to find another form to hold Death so that the process of the world could continue. Later, Death killed Life - but the power shattered the Reaper. 

Life and Death, working hand in hand - without the one, there can never be the other. There was balance. 

He felt a pang of sorrow at knowing he broke his promise to Jenna, but the joy he still felt at knowing there were no (permanent) deaths resulting from the crash smothered the guilt. Sometimes, to save a life, one had to give a life - and in some situations, that wasn't a price that bothered Henry at all.


	12. Chapter 12

Henry grimaced, blinking hard to focus on the papers he held in his hands.

"Henry? Henry!"

He looked up, reaching out to steady himself. "Yes, Jo?"

She frowned in concern. "Henry, I was talking to you – did you hear me?"

"No, my apologies – I must have gotten distracted." He stood up, swaying as the room spun around him. Shutting his eyes to clear his vision, he opened them again as Jo reached out to steady him.

"It's really hot up here, and you're not sweating – are you sure you're alright?"

He waved her off. "As you've asked me several times before: yes, I'm fine."

"Would you lie just to avoid having to leave the scene?"

"Jo, I'm a doctor. I know the dangers heatstroke may pose."

She sighed. "If you say so."

He brushed the dust off his trousers and resumed studying the papers. Jo left his side, continuing her walk around the room, testing walls and windows. Several minutes passed in silence, only broken by a turning page or creaking wood.

Grimacing at the nausea threatening, Henry set the papers down with shaky hands. "Jo..I'll just wait downstairs."

She looked up from the drawer she was fiddling with. "What? Oh, sure – I'll be done here in a minute."

He nodded in acknowledgment, carefully making his way down the stairs to the first floor of the building. Halfway down, all faded into blackness, and he collapsed to the ground. His last thought was that perhaps he should have listened to Jo earlier.

Henry jerked awake with a gasp, slipping backward and falling to the soapy ground.

... Juanita hummed as she mopped back and forth, turning around to put the mop back into the mop bucket. She gasped, jaw falling open, eyes bulging. She yelped, the mop falling to the ground. One shaky hand gripped the rosary around her neck, and she prayed in fear, "Padre Dios, Guarda mi alma de esta presencia demoníaca!" She crossed herself, half sobbing, half wailing as she stared at Henry.

Henry sighed. This was why he couldn't bring himself to tell his secret to others: there were far to many instances of fear such as hers in his past; too many frightened people turning on him.

"No, I'm not a demon. Could you please hand me a towel?" He prayed that that the towels offerred by this motel were at least normal size - not the size of handtowels.

She nodded, and quickly snatched one up, holding it out to him, all the while refusing to get any closer than she had to. She whispered prayers of safety under her breath, asking for deliverance.

Avoiding looking at her, Henry took the towel - careful to keep from touching her. Hesitating to continue bothering her, yet knowing he couldn't just walk out of the room, he gestured towards the phone.

"May I use that, just for a minute?"

Juanita nodded mutely.

He nodded his thanks and picked up the phone, hurriedly dialing the first number that came to mind.

Jo waited in the car, looking through the papers Henry had left behind. Reaching out to turn up the air conditioning, she checked the time. Henry had disappeared nearly fifteen minutes before - she would wait another fifteen before giving up and going back to work.

Her phone rang, and she absently answered it. "Detective Martinez."

"Jo, it's Henry -"

"And here I thought you were a doctor and knew the dangers of heatstroke..." She grinned.

She could almost hear Henry frowning at her. "Heatstroke can come one quite suddenly -" He interrupted himself. "I'm at a motel; would you be kind enough to pick me up?"

"Sure, where is it?" She scribbled the location he gave her down on an old napkin. Tossing the pen back into her purse, she buckled her seat belt. "Alright - I'll be there in a few minutes. Try not to die again though."

"I will try not to. Thank you."

Jo pulled up behind the motel, at a dingy stairwell. Unbuckling her seat and opening her door, she reached out to shut the car off, freezing when the passenger door opened.

"No need, Jo - you may leave."

As Henry shut the door behind him and buckled up, she secured herself in and pulled away from the curb.

"I didn't hear you fall, so you didn't collapse on the steps..."

"No, I passed out in the corridor - perhaps it was too hot."

She smiled. "A little. Here," She reached forward and pulled the papers off the dashboard, giving them to him. "I took the papers from the attic after you left them - do you want to look over them again, now that you're thinking clearly?"

He took the papers, waving away the dust. As she navigated traffic back to Abe's shop, he read through the papers, talking through his thoughts on the subject. Seeing him sitting beside her, having just died, yet acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary made her grin; and she was glad that he would never change.

**Disclaimer: We own nothing! Thank you for reading as always!**


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